Charismatic
by UrbanAuthor
Summary: John Smith, code name 'The Doctor', clever charming private eye with a bow- tie idée fixe. Clara Oswald, code name 'Oswin', also known as his imperious sassy companion. Solving murder mysteries and chasing down criminals in the perilous New York City, flirting included. (Eleven & Clara AU)
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: ****I got the idea for this Fan Fiction a while ago actually, and it's still a work in progress, but I'll see how it goes! I won't be updating much on this story though, for it does take a while for each chapter to be written. :)  
**

* * *

**_Chapter One_**

The sound of her heels clicking down the hallway floor was an indication to John that Clara had something to yell at him about, because, well, usually she did. He didn't mind it though, albeit in the first few months of working together every time she spoke to him it seemed as if she had this look of hers as if she wanted to slap him in the face. _"It wouldn't hurt if I did, considering that your chin just serves as main defense." _She snapped at him in admonishment yet slight flirtation. Clara Oswald had always seemed to find John rather notorious, a persona that spoke for itself, and though she would claim him to be utterly idiotic, she had the heart to laugh at him in admiration on the inside. Not like she would ever admit that anyway.

TARDIS, private eye agency located in Manhattan of New York, the most prestigious type of detective performance one could commission. John Smith, a rather unusual human being at the most, one who thinks that _fezzes are cool_ and that _tweed coats are still in style_. Clara Oswald, the one to mainly boss him around at times and to force him to cooperate, for it wasn't obscure, John had the performance of a three-year old. He was one to think that fish fingers and custard was a brilliant concoction and that adults only waste their money on lamps and vegetables, and the thing that peeved her the most, _he just couldn't stay still_.

She walked into his office that early afternoon, neatly placing a few files onto his desk. One would suspect that Clara would just presume he'd get on with his work, but no, there were certain rituals that were committed to Clara's job, and one of those was to deal with his inability to cooperate in general. He pettily glanced up from the book he was reading, not taking any interest in the papers placed before him, which was usually expected of him. And in return, Clara raised an eyebrow at his responses, yet she wasn't the bit slightest surprised.

"Kate Lethbridge-Stewart, authority figure of the New York City's most lucrative array of exhibits at the City Museum." Clara explained the lesson like an exasperated teacher, opening the file to reveal a cover page of information. She turned the folder around in order for it to face him, still reading his book, Clara's words seeming to have no impact. He probably wasn't even paying any attention, yet he attempted to convince her that he was by a slight distracted nod of his head. Clara sighed. "Why does it always seem as if I'm talking to myself?" she said, feeling slightly hopeless.

"Huh?" John replied, oblivious to the fact that Clara was indeed trying to talk to him. Clara lowered the book from his face to meet his eyes, and she stared at him in slight anger an annoyance, _much _like an exasperated teacher.

"Put the book down, and do your bloody job."

"But I was reading!" he whined back, attempting to release the book from her grasp, only to find that it wasn't much use. Clara snatched the book out of his hands successfully, the front cover boasting their words, _Melody Malone, Private Detective in Old New York Town_. Clara stared at the rather improper cover image in suspicion.

"You're only reading this book for it's cover aren't you?"

He glared at her in defense. "No, I wasn't!"

Clara smirked as he clumsily tried to retrieve his book, at which point Clara only held it further away from his grasp. It was a pain in the derrière to get him to cooperate at times, therefore making her job even more difficult than it really should have been. Not as if Clara didn't like it, out of all things, she was rather enjoying it. "You seem to have a slight interest into malapropos cover images, don't you Doctor?" Clara teased, using the name she usually called him by. She didn't have a favorable liking into the name of John Smith; she thought it was just plain boring.

"I-it's not like that!" he sputtered out in protest. He attempted to grab the book from her by quickly reaching across his desk, thereby leaving him in a rather awkward position, at which at that point Clara hooked her index finger onto his ridiculous bow-tie, forcefully tugging his idiotic face to meet hers. _If he wore just a normal tie, this would've been much easier. _She lightly commented to herself as she looked him in the eye.

"_You_ do your work and make my job a bit easier; understood?"

John gulped, as for one, he was being violently pulled at by the neck, and, well, Clara could be one feisty and utterly terrifying assistant. He slowly nodded, at which at that point Clara smiled politely back at him.

* * *

_**Seven Months Ago**_

John tapped on the marble coffee table he sat at in, trying to act as if he were preoccupied in reading Jane Eyre, for he was never really quite sure why he was reading it in the first place. He stared at the words as if they might have belonged to some peculiar alien dialect, and with the amount of sleep he had gotten in the previous night, a peculiar alien dialect was probably what he really thought it was. Alec had informed him to wake up early that day to meet up with this mysterious girl by the name of Clara Oswald, apparently his new, as he would say, _'associate'_._  
_

_"Fine young girl I must say, very attentive, a bit feisty if you ask me but I thought that would straighten you up a bit." _Alec had commented weeks prior, and John wasn't sure if those last words of his were intended to be a light playful insult or if he had really meant it. But by the looks of it, Alec probably meant it.

Alec informed him that he was to meet her at this apparently commercial coffeehouse that John had never heard of before in his life, therefore making him feel like he was getting old at a young age of twenty-seven. Hell, he didn't even know what this Clara girl looked like, nor did he know anything about her for the matter.

So he just continued to _very slowly _attempt to read Jane Eyre while half-asleep.

**~.~.~**

Behind the coffeehouse's reflective glass doors, Clara Oswald raked her fingers through her long brown strands of hair, for though she wasn't one with vanity issues, she liked to make a good impression. She nonchalantly strolled in like any other twenty-four year old customer would do, staring up at the chalkboard menu located above the glass counters filed with things frankly out of her appetite. The dust of the chalk defiantly spread across the board, smearing letters in various places, to Clara's slight annoyance, but that was the consequence of using chalk. _Too messy. _Clara felt the need to shake her head, but then finding the reason not to. She had to act as one, ordinary, uncaring human being. Clara then stuffed her left hand into the pocket of her crimson red trench coat, looking around for a bit until her hand met the feeling of a crumpled up paper at her fingertips. She pulled it out and carefully smoothed it out with her small hands, revealing to her a rather messy form of handwriting.

_Man in a bow-tie. Can't miss it.  
_

Clara had received the note that morning under her welcome mat, she suspected it was from Alec, the man whom she had talked to on the phone when arranging her new former job. Above all things, she was excited, but she hid her feelings rather well with a sophisticated kind of manner. _Shouldn't be too hard to find this guy. _Clara thought, shrugging to herself nonchalantly and placing the note back into her pocket. Alec had told her she'd be working with some man whose name was John Smith, which Clara found the title rather ordinary, for John Smith was the most common name she'd ever heard of. The place was fairly busy, but it didn't take much looking around until she spotted him.

He was sat at the third table from the left, surrounded by tables that were lined along the windows, and must she say, she was rather surprised at his appearance. Fairly good looking, she must say, but just so _confusing_. His hair was gravitational at one fairly particular lock that seemed to cover a portion of his forehead, his eyebrows rather thin; green eyes that scanned the lines of a new edition of Jayne Eyre, and a chin that _certainly _spoke for itself. He wore a bow-tie around his neck, a deep violet purple tweed coat framing his physique, and must she have the right to say, Clara had mixed feelings about the way he looked.

**~.~.~**

She daintily placed a tea cup on his table, a gesture that surprised John, for he expected at least a decent _hello_. She sat down at his table, offering a smile which told John that this girl wasn't the least bit of shy. At first glance she didn't even look like a girl older than twenty-one, with her petite structure and rather short height. Her brown eyes looked attentive and she had a retroussé nose, brown hair that was pulled into a proportionate bun at the back of her head. "You're my new associate?" John asked her, the word _associate _sounding defiantly out of place.

"I was going to ask the same to you." Clara replied blankly, her eyes focused on stirring a spoon in her tea cup.

"You don't look like an associate."

"Neither do you." Clara retaliated back in a friendly manner, eying his bow-tie. "And I prefer the term _companion_." she smiled back at him, her words certainly putting him off track.

He simply looked at her for a few seemingly unimportant seconds of his life, for out of all the people he had worked with, none seemed as responsive as Clara. She didn't seem to mind (Or for that matter, _care._) about the amount of time he wasted just staring at her, it was almost as if she was expecting it. He shook his head in objection for that matter, but she was the one to speak up first.

"So, _John_, if I'm going to address you, must I use a different and slightly more interesting form of epithet?" Clara asked politely, the statement in the form of a question not _seeming _as an insult, but they both knew that it kind of was.

John frowned slightly. "Such as...?"

Clara looked up to the ceiling as if something up there were to help her think. "Is there a word for total screaming genius that sounds modest and a tiny bit sexy?" she suggested, a statement that designated that she certainly wasn't skeptical in speaking her opinion.

"Doctor. You call me The Doctor."

Clara smirked. "See what you did there." she replied, taking a generously long sip of tea, and when it was placed back down on its saucer, it sat nearly empty. Clara then reached into the front pocket of her coat and pulled out a small ripped piece of journal paper, lightly tossing it onto the page of the book he was reading, and as it met his eye, John glanced at it in slight confusion. "What's this?" he questioned her, holding it in between his index finger and thumb, looking at it in puzzlement.

"My number." Clara raised her eyebrows at his response, him then noticing the series of numbers neatly written in purple pen. Clara then stood up, for she didn't need much conversation to become aware of the fact that her next job was going to be rather enjoyable, in the most peculiar of ways. She wasn't apologetic for the little amount of time they had for conversation, for she had other things to do. She straightened her red coat and stuffed both hands into her pockets, then turning away to leave. But before she paced away, she faced him politely, deciding just to tease him for the fun of it. "Catch you later, Chin Boy." Clara winked.


	2. Chapter 2

**_Chapter Two_**

"So what about this Kate Lethbride-Stewart?" John asked, impatiently adjusting his bow-tie, a habit that Clara usually found him committing.

"Not so much as her, more of her fifteen year-old daughter."

"What about her daughter?" John snapped back.

"She claims that this teacher of hers has been...eying her suspiciously for the past few months."

"What? Like stalking?"

"Much like stalking."

"What's this girl's name?"

"Osgood Lethbridge-Stewart." Clara clicked her tongue, reading the name in the fine print from her files.

"Osgood? What kind of a name is that?"

"Well it's better than your name. John Smith, what kind of a name is that? It's as boring as watching paint dry."

John glared at his assistant. "Well, why report to us? Why not tell the school counselor, mustn't be that big of a concern."

"Any form of stalking or activity of a supposed pedophile _is _a big concern." Clara snapped back at him. "Besides, that school doesn't have a counselor." Clara noted, leaning back in her chair.

"Well, it certainly needs one." John tapped his foot on the floor for a few moments, his hand stroking his rather provocative chin. (Well, provocative is the word that Clara used to describe it. Hell, it was bigger than his bloody face.) Clara rolled her eyes, for John was one to ensue himself in deep thought at times, the longest it lasted was a decent amount of two weeks. All of a sudden, John's face lit up in comprehension, a smile that Clara knew all too well. It meant that he usually had one of those insane ideas of his.

After a while, Clara finally understood what he was getting at. She promptly shook her head. "No, nope, I am not going to do that."

He pouted in reply, a pout that Clara had learned to deny rather well. "_No._" she repeated herself in clarification, making sure her words got through that thick skull of his.

He glowered at her in defeat. "But you'd make a lovely counselor." he claimed.

Clara raised an eyebrow in response; unsure of whether she'd take that as a complement or not.

* * *

**_Five Months Ago_**

"So...how's it like? Working with The Doctor, I mean." Amy asked, taking a sip of her tea, steam pouring from the rip of its cup. Oswin looked up at the ceiling of Amy's personal library, for in all honesty, her answer was unexplainable. The Doctor and Oswin were on a business related holiday in Europe, remaining a few nights at their their temporary staying inn, manor of Amelia and Rory Williams, the principal house of a landed estate. The Doctor and Oswin just served as a 'married couple' staying for a visit.

"Oh, I don't know." Oswin replied, her fingertips brushing the dust off of the books sitting atop the library shelf, for the felt almost deadly. "You really need to reread a few of these." Oswin added, brushing the dust in between her thumb and index finger. It had been two months, nearly eight weeks of working with The Doctor, and Oswin thought he was an absolute idiot. He was just so _childish_, something that Oswin hadn't exactly gotten used to yet, but she'd figured that she'd have to eventually.

"You can tell me, I _have _worked with him before, after all." Amy noted, and Oswin couldn't object to that. She was right, Amelia Williams was the former Scottish assistant to The Doctor, worked with him for ten years before moving to Europe with her husband. Amy and Rory then mainly worked from home, for they still had an ordinary life to live.

"He's absolutely notorious, rather...alien." Oswin finally replied, already preoccupied in pulling books from shelves and reading their summaries on the back cover.

"Nothing else?"

Oswin shook her head in reply, carefully replacing a few novels in their rightful place.

"...Clara..." Amy then said, the girl before her then turning to face her in surprise for using her actual name. "I beg your pardon, but...have you ever found an interest in fancying John?" Amy suggested, placing her tea cup on the stainless steel tray that carefully lay on the polished wooden table.

Oswin raised an eyebrow at Amy's accusations. "No, never had such a thought."

"So you don't think he's...oh I don't know...good looking?"

"I never said that he _wasn't_; he could be a pants model for all I care." Oswin replied nonchalantly, seeming to look busy at reading an old, pristine edition of _Pride and Prejudice_. Amy raised an eyebrow in suspicion, Oswin turning to face her blankly. "That idiotic face of his has its potential, why'd you ask?" Oswin questioned calmly, unintentionally giving interest into her partner's looks.

"Not that major of a concern really, it's just that The Doctor has never really loved anyone." Amy said in despondency.

Oswin looked up at the seventh shelf of books that was far out of her reach. "That's not true."

Amy tilted her head slightly, for it was the slightest bit of an exaggeration, but she had her reasons. "Well, there _was_ River, but to say that she was interested in another man." River was the one before Amy, she had been known to Oswin as _'the one with the skeptic space hair__'_. Truth be told, The Doctor _had_ an interest in her, but he knew that he'd never get a chance. She was married, had her own children, and if he had the insanity to commit adultery, The Doctor knew that any intimacy between him and River was simply out of the question. River was partners with The Doctor not to be a flirt, not to be friends, but to work, and that's all. River had a life of her own, a _world _of her own, and The Doctor was just a petty boy with a crush.

"You've given John this _change_, Clara." Amy told her softly, as if someone were hear the conversation between the two of them. "He's been more... _attentive_, almost in a way as to impress someone."

"Is that _someone _supposed to be me?" Oswin asked defiantly.

"Only if you want it to." Amy smiled.

* * *

"No, I'm _not _going to do it." Clara said repeatedly as she walked defiantly down the long corridor of their office, John following behind her like a pleading canine.

"Oh, come on! It's a brilliant plan!"

"Me? A school counselor?" Clara scoffed at herself. "I don't think so."

"But Clara, you'll be great! Oswin and Osgood, you'll go well together." John said, making Clara giggle in reply. She stopped walking all of a sudden to face him, a defeating smile on her face. John, however, was rather surprised. Clara had hardly ever laughed at him, she would usually snap at the stupidity of words that came from his mouth, but for once in the their time spent together, she _laughed_.

Clara looked down at her shoes. "...if I'm going to commit myself to whatever idiotic and insane plan you have, promise that you'll be with me?" Clara asked earnestly, her expected sass and fiery attitude on a slackening respite. John had never exactly seen Clara seem so nice to him before. It was weird.

"Yeah, of course, always." he nodded his head in reply. "Just...why?" he questioned her in confusion.

"Because I don't like to work alone, Chin Boy." Clara playfully slapped him in the arm, then continuing to walk down the hallway until she was out of sight. John, however, stayed behind, somewhat clinging onto the surface of the floor, a bit stupefied at how Clara was acting towards him. She hadn't called him Chin Boy since the first day he saw her, a nickname that wasn't exactly into his liking, yet the obvious truth. For once she was giving into the fact that John was a complete idiot, and had actually shown that, for one, she kind of liked him that way. John had never really thought that Clara favored him all that much, and for the first time in his life, maybe he was wrong about that.

Some Sherlock he was.


	3. Chapter 3

**_Chapter Three_**

Osgood Lethbridge-Stewart walked into her first period physics class on Monday morning, a bundle of textbooks her burden as she dumped them onto the wooden desk in the second row. Osgood examined them carefully to assure herself that she had gotten everything she needed,and yes she was one to do those kinds of things. Her eyes suddenly widened in realization and awareness, her hand anxiously feeling around her sweater pocket to feel for her inhaler, and luckily, there it remained, the little piece of blue plastic that helped her lungs do what they were made for. Osgood was, you could say, somewhat recognizable, but she didn't exactly take that as a good thing. She wasn't the most _likable _person ever, with her edgy nervous state of being that could easily draw people away from her, those huge glasses of hers covering half of her face. More so, the one thing that people thought was the most peculiar about her was that ridiculously long scarf always draped around her neck all the time. Kate had given it to her, said it was from her father's friend.

As students poured into the classroom, either half asleep or talking about wanting to be asleep, Osgood pretentiously reloaded her mechanical pencil, and in all honesty, she preferred the #2 yellow type of writing utensil. Angie said she was obsolete.

Osgood quietly sighed to herself as she heard the conversations of the people around her, and how she had a slight interest into joining them, like they would acknowledge her presence anyway. She turned her head to face the clock that seemed to be ticking one second per hour, and as she moved, she winced out a bit in pain. She tried best to ignore it.

She turned back around to fiddle with the somewhat complicated controls with of her mechanical pencil, just waiting for time to speed the hell up already and for the class to start. Maybe waiting was the consequence of coming early, which was a consequence of being the daughter of Kate Lethbrigde-Stwert. Nothing that could be done about that, really.

Suddenly, someone came into the room, someone _other _than the usual middle-aged Mrs. Pemberly who wasn't too bad at explaining the usual science of physics, someone rather...peculiar. "Good morning class!" this unusual man smiled brightly, his presence and strong enthusiastic voice certainly waking every living soul in that physics classroom. "Physics, what do you know?" he said as if it was a joke meant for himself.

**~.~.~**

The Doctor, a mad man, a geeky science braniac that happened to know more than the average human brain, and apparently, Osgood's new physics teacher. _This guy's weird. _Osgood thought to herself, but then again, so was she. Some of the girls in her class certainly took and interest into fancying him, for it wasn't complicated, this guy had looks, with the addition of confusing and obscure actualities of his appearance. She wondered if it was even _possible_ to have a chin that ridiculously large; or if anyone even wore bow-ties anymore, and that usual quiff of his made her question her understatement of gravity. _Physics. _She thought to herself, the word suddenly having no meaning to it anymore.

* * *

Francesca Latimer stood outside the abandoned classroom door, a small, fragile piece of paper clutched in her hand. _Room 11A _it read in Lilly's handwriting. Frannie had ditched her second period literature class for this, she hoped it would at least be somewhat decent. Lilly had told her about this new female counselor that was apparently 'required' for the school, and it was like Frannie's saving grace. Frannie had always been a rather unexplainable child, having dreams of dying and abuse at a young age of fourteen, and her father had no idea how to cope with it, so he eventually gave up on offering any assistance, and she couldn't tell her younger brother Digby. She nervously held her fist to the tall door, hesitating for a moment before knocking lightly a few times. "Come in!" a light young voice call out calmly, as Frannie slowly turned the brass doorknob as she entered the room, having the slightest bit of idea as of what to expect.

It was a small room, but suitable, in fact; it didn't look a thing like a classroom. There was a coffee table in the center of the room, two parlor chairs sitting patiently on each side. There was an old mechanical desk in the back corner of the room, and sitting at it, a young lady in a crimson red dress with a very student-like (If you so may call it.) pleated skirt. She was younger than Frannie had expected, for her feet barely reached the ground as she worked, but as the counselor turned to face her, she smiled warmly. "Hello there! My name's Miss Oswin." she introduced herself, for she seemed like a fairly polite and understandable adult. "Here, take a seat." she pointed her fountain pen towards a chair, Frannie doing as she was told. Miss Oswin followed not too long after, smoothing out her dress as she sat down.

"...do you mind if I chew gum here?" Frannie asked shyly, the piece of sticky pink candy hiding underneath her tongue.

"Yeah, why not?" Miss Oswin replied, giving her a funny look, for she certainly had no problem with it. "Just don't leave it on the furniture, they're all rental." she noted, looking down at the papers that sat neatly in her lap. "Besides," she added, writing something down. "I can trust you, right?" she smiled wittingly at Frannie, who nodded slowly in nervousness. "Brilliant." she smiled again, emphasizing her grin. "So," she started, her pen ready at hand. "What's been on your mind?"

* * *

The Doctor sat at a vacant table near the end of the cafeteria, observing the students that passed by ever so carefully. He stuffed a fish finger into his mouth, a food that was rather enjoyable to him. (When he had found out what had been on the lunch menu for that Monday, he thought it certainly in it's own way ironic.) Little did he realize when Oswin walked up and sat herself down neatly on the seat next to his, joining in on his student observing. But when he did finally see her, he found himself rather surprised, but just stayed quiet while eating his fish fingers, along with a can of custard that he so happened to pick up along the way. It stayed silent for a few moments before he popped up a conversation. "So, how was your day so far? Being a counselor any fun?"

Oswin took it as sarcasm, still staring straight ahead. "It's alright." she finally said, staring at the students who didn't bother to pick up the trash that they had attempted to throw in the garbage, for goodness sake, some people just had a horrible aim. "Had to deal with skinny girls on diets and teenage snogging dramatics; I had a girl who came in with pantophobia." she pointed out.

"Fear of pants?" The Doctor said in slight amusement of himself. Oswin wasn't too fond of the irony.

"Fear of everything." Oswin raised her eyebrows in response. "...including pants I suppose." The Doctor laughed. Oswin smiled a bit in spite of herself. "There was this one girl though, she just sort of stood out... I think her name was... Frannie." Oswin played with the ring on her middle finger, a habit of hers when she was suspended in thought. "Said she was having these dreams." She then shook her head. "How about yourself, teaching physics?"

"Time of my life." The Doctor grinned. He was a brainiac when it came to physics, hell, he was a fangirl of Isaac Newton.

Oswin raised an eyebrow in response, then turning back to watch the atmosphere of private school students. After a while, she realized the kind of cuisine that her partner had been stuffing into his face for the past few minutes, and she looked at his tray in slight distaste. "Where did you get the custard?" she asked, staring in repugnance.

"Kitchen." he responded nonchalantly, Oswin looking at him in slight disgust. Only The Doctor would look around the school's kitchen to find custard for fingers of fish. She shook her head. "So, when are you going to talk to Osgood?" she questioned, attempting to change the matter.

"In a few days. Don't want to seem obvious."

Oswin responded with only a slight nod as she stared straight ahead of her. "What does this girl look like?"

"Rather distinctive, ponytail, humongous glasses, she had a nice scarf." he commented. "Keeps taking that inhaler of hers though."

It wasn't long before Oswin had spotted her amongst the crowd of people, for he wasn't wrong, Osgood was rather distinctive. She sat at her table, for she looked incredibly stiff, almost nervous, as if she knew that something was going to happen. The girl next to her had massive frizzy curls of deep brown hair, a rather agitated expression on her face.

Meanwhile, The Doctor took an apple from his lunch tray and held it somewhat proudly in his palm, taking a bite into it. He chew it a few times, that idiotic yet satisfied smile on his face. "An apple a day keeps the..." he started, then stopping mid-sentence, his mouth half full. Oswin scoffed in amusement. The Doctor frowned in disagreement, placing (Almost throwing) the apple back onto his tray. "Eh, apples are rubbish." he muttered under his breath.

Then, Oswin spotted a man in a suit, she supposed it was a teacher, walk up behind Osgood and sharply tap her on the shoulder, the fifteen year-old girl flinching in what it seemed like slight terror and pain. Oswin narrowed her eyes as he whispered something in her ear, and ever so easily, she stood up carefully and followed him out of the cafeteria, the girl who sat beside her not even seeming to care. That man, there was something unusual about him, the way he smiled in deceitful bliss, his hair a shade of whitened blonde, his eyes cold and just a little too _blue_, in a way that you would describe ice. Oswin tried to shake it off, but that didn't mean that she wouldn't take it into her suspicion. She presumed she would find out sooner or later.

"I need to get going." she shook her head, standing up, grabbing the already bitten apple from The Doctor's lunch tray and biting into it herself, for she hadn't eaten, and she didn't have too much of a fondness towards fish fingers and custard.

"Bye Clara-" The Doctor said, his eyes widening in realization. "I mean...Oswin..."

She laughed. "See you, John."


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: **So sorry for not updating last weekend, I was rather busy and this week's been nothing but frustrating. But I'm back, and have a week off of school so I'll be able to write more! Also, if you have the time that is, I do enjoy reading your feedback on this, so please take reviewing into consideration! Thank you. :)

P.S. As the days go by while The Doctor and Oswin are still working for the school, you'll begin to see a developing ritual of them spending their lunch breaks together. Just a cute little thing I'd thought I'd throw in there. ;P

* * *

**_Chapter Four  
_**

_She awkwardly walked behind him, trying to keep up with his fast pace. Osgood never had a fair chance at being comfortable around people, and she figured that would never really change. The ritual had been going on for a few months now, and Osgood knew that she was practically committing a crime, but it was either committing one, or getting her brains blown out by the shot of a gun. Osgood didn't have a choice, with the poor bravery she held in her stomach. She was doing something wrong, something terribly, horribly wrong, and being the daughter of Kate Lethbridge-Stewart, that made consequences even worse._

_ Now before any inappropriate assumptions are made, let the truth be told that Osgood's felonies were under the criteria of hacking. Though she may be a socially awkward and ever so vulnerable pariah, Osgood was smart, hell, she was brilliant. Her brain revolved around mathematical calculations and unexplainable science, quite the connoisseur at computer hacking, yet Osgood had never known that it would be used for such a pessimistic use. _

_He used her. The Editor; an intimidating threatening man who looked a little bit to much like a ghost, yet a hint of charm to convince one that he wasn't the slightest bit of devious. He seemed like an ordinary history teacher to an ordinary student eye, though Osgood had to keep her mouth shut about every single lie she'd known about him. Every other day of every week, he'd come and collect her from lunch, what was known to others as advanced placement classes, and he'd take her to the computer technician lab, and, well, she'd hack. Nothing but hack. And so you may ask, what shall happen if Osgood rejects to such illegal requests? Well, let's just state the fact that The Editor knew of her weaknesses. _

The Editor and The Doctor. They seemed a hell of a lot similar. _Osgood thought to herself while pacing down the hallway; it would have been amusing to her if the circumstances hadn't been so horribly terrifying. She pondered at the assumption that the two had some form of similarity or somewhat connection, she could find that on her own at a later time. The Editor opened the door to the empty classroom, and Osgood hesitated a moment before stepping in;she did that every time. She sat herself down at the first computer at the first row; the computer she had acquired a strange attachment to. He locked the door behind him as Osgood breathed in and tried to control herself. "W-what are you going to make me do this time?" she tried to snap at him, her voice coming out weak and fragile.  
_

_He grinned at her immorally. "You know me too well, Miss Stewart." He'd have something new for her to hack into every time, and every time he'd forced her to do it. He'd threatened her. He smoothly slid into the teacher's revolving chair at the front desk, spinning around a few times, almost as if he was thinking."What shall we hack today?" he muttered to himself in content. He obviously already targeted his mind on a decision. He spun the chair around to face Osgood and simply smiled. "What the hell...let's hack Torchwood."  
_

_Osgood sat up straight in her chair, for her mind had never really thought about hacking into Torchwood archives. No, it was too dangerous, she couldn't do it. Torchwood was a reliable ally with UNIT, the main security company her mother worked for, and if anyone found out about her hacking into its system, do you know how disgraceful consequences like that could be? "...no." Osgood mumbled to herself, for it brought her to shame at how easily he could convince her to follow his orders. Her voice was tiny and scared, but The Editor heard it just fine._

_"What was that?" he asked her in a mocking surprise, his blue eyes narrowing. "No?" He raised his eyebrows at her response."Well, we can't take that for an answer, can we now?" He asked suspiciously, standing up from his chair and walking over to her. He stared at her coldly, lowering his voice as if someone were to hear. "I don't care if your the daughter of UNIT's commissioner, you don't follow orders, consequences will be obliged. Violent ones I might add." he growled lightly, his hand clenching her shoulder. Osgood flinched in slight pain, for he had a strong hold of her. "And besides, by school rules, you're supposed to do as you're told. Especially teachers." he lightened up a bit, flicking the bone underneath her collar. Osgood squirmed, for she had broken her collarbone when she was twelve, and though the injury didn't require surgery, it sure as hell hurt. Even now. The pain surged through her, and it told her that she'd better do as she was told unless she didn't want to break her clavicle. Again. _

_Osgood turned to face the blank computer screen and saw her reflection and in all honesty, she didn't know what to do with herself. She didn't care whether she was an honors student, she didn't care if she was called 'unbelievably talented in academics.' She cared about the fact that no one was there for her to tell. She couldn't even tell anyone. Her mother was either too busy or too tired to merely acknowledge her presence, and Osgood didn't even have a decent friend, and besides, what sort of a teenager would believe such an insane story about her psycho history teacher? It was then when the reality broke in. Osgood was alone. So with a shaky hand, Osgood turned on the computer, and thought to herself, I'm hacking Torchwood._

"Osgood!" A familiar voice called out to her. She snapped out her daydream to realize that the certain voice had belonged to The Doctor, and that she was sitting half-asleep in his first period physics class. "Huh?" she slightly mumbled to herself in embarrassment, then hoping that no one had heard. She turned to face The Doctor who was sitting at his desk in the front of the classroom. "May I please talk to you, Osgood? After class?" he asked her with that slight conviction that all teachers had. Osgood stared at him for a moment, taking a small respite to search her brain for any recall of her doing anything wrong. She couldn't find anything, so she didn't see a reason for him to feel the need to talk to her. "...okay." she responded nevertheless, The Doctor flashing her a small smile just as the bell had rung. As the students filed out of the classroom, Osgood arranged her books neatly on her desk for her convenience when she was to leave, then tiredly sliding out of her seat to toddle over to his desk. The Doctor had probably realized that Osgood was rather lethargic on that particular morning, so he motioned for her to have a seat in the desk directly in front of his.

Doing as she was told, Osgood asked suspiciously. "What did you call me in here for? Did I do anything wrong...?" she asked apprehensively. The Doctor shook his head.

"Oh, no, this is nothing about that, don't worry." He assured her, much to Osgood's relief. "I just have a...um...a small concern." He nodded his head slightly, Osgood keeping quiet to allow him to continue, at which point he did. "I've been informed by a few certain people that you've been acting kind of...off lately I should say, and I know that it's your personal decisions on whether to keep to yourself or not, but I've scheduled you for an appointment with the school counselor today during your advisory time." he took a moment's respite to allow Osgood to take it all in. "Not long, just a few minutes to get acquainted with her, she's a very attentive young woman, so don't hesitate to ask her anything." he smiled kindly, handing her a piece of paper with the times and the room number. Osgood looked at it blankly. She'd never heard of the school having a counselor, and she sure had never considered talking to one.

"Um...okay I suppose." Osgood whispered quietly, taking one last glance at the slip of paper before stuffing it into her pocket. "Thanks Doctor." she said shyly, and turned back to retrieve her books before heading out the door. But before she did, she turned back to take a good look at him, The Doctor, in suspicion. "What's her name?" she questioned him, wondering if he'd know the answer.

He looked up from the book on his desk and stared back at her. "Her name's Oswin."

* * *

Oswin bit into her apple during her lunch period, the bitten piece just a tiny bit to big for her mouth to obtain. The Doctor stifled a laugh at the sight of her. "I must look so attractive right now." Oswin mumbled with her mouth nearly full, attempting to chew successfully. He laughed even more so as she lightly swatted him in the arm. She turned back to stare at the crowd of adolescents before her in the cafeteria, for it wasn't hard to realize that the place was certainly loud. "Oh yeah, Osgood's seeing you today, one thirty." The Doctor added. Oswin nodded her head as if to say _Okay_, the word obviously not being able to come from her mouth considering the fact that an abnormally large amount of food was blocking her ability to speak. She continued to chew for a few blissful minutes before finally swallowing. "So," she started, neatly placing the apple on a napkin. "Who do you think he is?"

"Who's 'he'?" The Doctor asked.

"That...guy that took Osgood yesterday, you know, too much pride in their stride, sort of like you when you're walking?" she said nonchalantly, The Doctor glaring at her playfully. "Ruffian? Raider? Technological brainiac?" she shot a few suggestions towards him.

"Why would he need Osgood if he was a technological braniac?" he pondered, Oswin nodding her head slightly to show that she was paying attention. It wasn't obscure, he could tell that Osgood was somewhat into computers, judging by her grades in that particular criteria. (He had hacked into the school's grading system the night before, then realizing that he didn't really have to, he had the rights considering that he _was _a teacher after all.) "Could be a ruffian, couldn't see why not, but a raider?" He scoffed lightly. "What's to steal from a secondary private school?" The Doctor folded his hands and set them on the table. "That guy...he's not here for the school, I think he's here for Osgood's smarts of sorts." he muttered to himself. "I mean, what else?"

"But why couldn't he just find someone who works in his own agency to do all of the technician matters?" Oswin asked suspiciously.

"I don't know, he either works alone or everyone he works with are idiots." The Doctor snapped, slouching over a bit, thinking to himself. "But maybe..." he suddenly found a realization. "Maybe it's not just for Osgood's acumen, _maybe _it's for her mother's work."

Oswin felt a tiny bit enlightened for a mere moment. "Yeah..." she trailed off, thinking about it for a few moments. "Osgood's mother is the head of UNIT, owns a set of exhibition displays, maybe..." she trailed off. "Maybe he wants something from her." Her mind was carefully taking mental notes.

The Doctor, on the other hand, was feeling rather exuberant. He always had that feeling when something was up. "Ah, brilliant!" he exclaimed, coming to the attention of the next few tables or so. He simply waved back at their odd looks. "Oswin," he said in a hushed voice. "You need to find out what Osgood's been doing, might take some time though, have to admit, you can be a little hard to trust-_ow!_" he yelled as quietly as he could as Oswin practically stomped on his foot underneath the table with her heel."Okay, let's just say you have minor yet _understandable_ trust issues." he said slowly, his temporary injured foot serving as proof. "Alright?"

Oswin glared at him for a moment before nodding her head. "Yeah...alright."


	5. Chapter 5

**_Chapter Five_**

"So, tell me about yourself." Oswin instructed her nonchalantly, only getting comfortable in her chair. Osgood, however, was far from settled.

"What's there to know about?" she asked in unease, on the edge of her chair, her shoulders tense._  
_

"Oh, I don't know...got a name for starters?" the counselor smiled at her, Osgood wondering if she was intent with her sarcasm.

"Osgood Lethbridge-Stewart...?" she mumbled quietly under her breath, her voice slightly cracking. She adjusted her glasses. Osgood had mixed feelings about her name; it was either it didn't suit her or she just didn't _want _it to.

"Is that in the form of an answer or the form of a question?" Oswin asked.

"In the fifteen years of my life, I think I've become pretty acquainted with the sound of my own name." Osgood answered back, and it wasn't an answer out of sass or back talk, it was out of truth.

"Good." Oswin said, nodding her head slightly. "Osgood, just out of curiosity, what have you been doing with..._The Editor? _That's what he goes by, correct?"

Osgood blinked at her twice. "Yes. It's...advanced...placement classes, that's all. Every other day."

"And you're the only one?"

"Yeah...suppose so."

"I thought advanced placement classes are supposed to be attended daily-"

"It's a flexed arrangement." Osgood interrupted, a bleak attempt to stay calm.

Oswin only nodded her head slowly. "Alright, and how are these advanced placement classes?"

She felt a lump in her throat. "...they're going along well."

"Learned anything of use?"

"Yes." Osgood replied, and that wasn't a lie.

"So is this...Editor a good teacher?"

"...yes. Strict with his students, but yes."

"Osgood, has it ever pressured you, your mother's work and what form of authority she holds?"

"Sometimes, I guess."

"Do you ever feel nervous or stressed about this concern?"

"On occasions."

Oswin twirled her pencil in her hands, taking a respite to jot down a few notes that Osgood didn't find any purpose for. But nevertheless, Oswin wasn't the only one with questions. "Do you have a last name, Miss Oswin?"

She looked up from her clipboard. "I believe that real question is, _what is your last name?_"

Osgood looked down at her lap.

"...Montague." she replied after a long respite of silence, looking up from her papers.

_Oswin Montague. _Osgood thought. It was unusual yet...fitting.

* * *

The following day, Oswin sat next to The Doctor during lunch, tapping the table in unease. "She's lying." she whispered, coming out as a mere mumble, though The Doctor could hear her just fine. She knew that it would take time to ease Osgood to allow her a better understanding of the situation, yet Oswin couldn't tolerate lying; she could just tell so easily. The way she had been sitting, her stiff posture and nervous face, but then again, maybe that's just her unforgivable persona. Yet, with the things that Oswin had already known, she had become very aware of the fact that she wasn't telling her the truth. And maybe even if Osgood decided to come at a regular schedule, she still wouldn't have the audacity to trust her, therefore even admit to her that anything was wrong, which basically took out the main principal of the term, _counseling_.

"I could talk to her if you want." The Doctor offered. Oswin only shook her head. She knew that it wouldn't be of much use. "It's just, I don't believe she'll trust anyone with ease." she replied in a careful manner, staring straight ahead of her into the atmosphere of clanging tin lunchboxes and plastic lunch trays, the thought of food itself not giving much of an appetite to her. She just didn't really feel hungry, which happened occasionally when something was bothering her, which in this case, was the whole purpose of her being in a school. She sighed to herself, raking her fingers through her hair, a typical sign that she was hassled.

"Hey," The Doctor said, placing a hand down on her shoulder lightly as a sign of comfort. "Don't stress out about it, you've just met her today." he said quietly, in a soft tone of voice. Oswin, however, simply stared at his hand on her shoulder as if she just wanted to earnestly rip his arm off. She just wasn't exactly used to physical contact when it omitted slapping him in the face, and she wasn't sure whether to just brush his hand off or to leave it there; for getting fired up about the situation was certainly out of the question in a place like this. So hesitantly she just bit her lip and let his hand stay there for a few more seconds. "I'm just worried about her, I mean, nobody's going to help her if she doesn't tell anyone, and we aren't even aware of what's happening in the first place-"

"I know, it's going to be alright, trust me." he responded, then rubbing her arm gently, at which at that point Oswin really wanted to rip his arm off. Hell, she wasn't used to him doing that. Yet, it felt sort of comforting in a strange and confusing way that Oswin couldn't really make of. "Okay." she whispered quietly, clenching her fist underneath the table and then relaxing her grip, the sound of her breath lost in the loud voices of students talking and yelling at one another. She wanted to calm down, yet she couldn't accept the fact that Osgood could be getting hurt, and even more so, _used _by The Editor.

That's when, in the corner of her eye, she saw him. Like he did two days ago, he calmly walked behind Osgood, tapping her in the shoulder as she weakly obliged to follow him, the one thing that Oswin wanted to suffocate the man for. She had to know what they were up to. "I'll...I'll be right back, okay?" she asked The Doctor lightly, to which he looked at her in a slight concern.

"Oswin, I don't want you getting hurt-"

"I'm _not _going to get hurt." she hissed back, her expression softening when she realized that he looked genuinely unsettled. "Don't worry, I'll be fine. Promise." she reassured him, and without another word, carefully followed The Editor and Osgood out of the cafeteria. She attempted to look preoccupied and the least suspicious as possible, taking out her mobile phone and checking the date and time in order to busy herself away from their attention. Oswin then became aware that they were heading towards the computer lab, so she silently took a few spare papers from the recycling bin to serve as her excuse; nobody was going to use them anyway. Yet once they reached the lab, The Editor turned around abruptly and stopped her in her tracks.

"I'm sorry ma'am, but we'll be using the computer lap until the lunch period is over." he said in an overly polite manner, one that sounded frankly blatant and annoyed Oswin at the least.

"I have to use the copy machine, I'm sure my presence will not disrupt your _AP _classes." Oswin replied.

"Miss Osgood is to be taking her AP exams; no one shall interrupt her concentration."

"Well I'm sure that you can use one of the classroom computers, if such test taking necessities are required." she eyed the man carefully, keeping her anger hidden under a faint smile of persuasion. The Editor, however, was not the slightest bit convinced. He simply turned around with a slight scowl, closing the door in a violent manner, so much that it made Oswin's hair blow back by it's intensity. She huffed a bit in frustration, for The Editor was one not to give out any sort of leeway. She stood there outside of the door, thinking to herself for any possible way to eavesdrop on the conversation, when she realized that there really was only form of doing so.

She'd have to do it the old-fashioned way.

* * *

Oswin never had a particular liking of being short, and it bothered her in particular occasions such as this. She stood looking up at the high window right above her head, if she had been taller the situation would have been much easier. She figured that if she carefully slid the panel open, she'd be able to hear what was going on inside of the lab, maybe not the whole conversation, but enough to hear what was generally happening. There was an old, bent oak tree to her left, so with some luck and muscles, Oswin hoped that she could reach the window from her position. She removed her jacket and tied it around her waist, slightly agitated by the heat. She then carefully placed her foot on the tree, then realizing that she wouldn't get very far with heels, so she quickly took them off and placed them neatly on the ground beneath her. Oswin wasn't too much on trees, but she could climb them when she needed to.

When she was far enough to reach the window, she was happy when she found it easy to open, so with her tiny hands, Oswin carefully slid the window open a mere two inches, enough to give her the leeway to hear The Editor's sharp voice.

"I've told you this before, when you don't listen to orders, there are consequences." he growled as Osgood, and even though they were on the opposite side of the lab, Oswin could hear them just as clear.

"I-I can't." Osgood's fragile voice replied. "_I can't! _I might be able to hack into Torchwood, 13 Bannerman Road, but...but not UNIT. Never UNIT." she snapped, a bit of courage in her voice. Oswin's eyes narrowed. _She'd been...hacking? _

"You follow _my_ orders on school grounds-"

"That's my _mother _you're talking about-!" Osgood yelled before Oswin heard her shriek as a loud noise of a slap echoed in the walls of the classroom. Oswin gasped, covering her mouth. _He...he didn't...he couldn't have..._

"You do what I tell you to do or else you're dead, you hear me?" he growled, his voice lucid.

"I...I..."

"I said, _you hear me?!_" his voice roared in an angry manner, so loud that Oswin's foot slipped from the branch in surprise, her tiny physique tumbling to the ground. She landed on her back, slightly moaning in the pain, her eyes directed towards a gash on her upper arm. She grimaced. A branch must have tore her skin. Other than that, she felt alright, at least, enough to stand up and walk again. She carefully sat up, blood slowly running down her arm. She looked at it in disgust, hastily removing her jacket from her waist and pulling it on to soak up the blood. She could clean it up later.

* * *

Once back in the school hallways, she passed students on their way to class, a rather difficult task itself, especially when you just fell out of a tree. She saw The Doctor walking by to his own classroom, him giving her an interested look before stopping to talk to her. "Hey, you alright?" he asked. "You look a bit...shocked."

"I'm fine," she denied, trying to make her way past him, failing miserably as he grabbed a hold of her upper left arm to stop her, Oswin adopting a look of pain. "Ouch!" she snapped at him, shoving his hand off. Her eyes then softened as she then realized that she had been caught.

"Oswin, what's wrong?" he asked her sternly.

She then knew that she'd have to admit to him, so without another word, she partially removed her jacket from her shoulders, a sight of a decent wound and smeared blood coming from it. The Doctor's eyes widened at how horrible it looked, and without saying anything, laced his fingers around hers. Oswin stared at his hand in hers for a moment, for he had never, never even once held her hand. It felt terrifying. "Come on." he instructed her, pulling her along.

"Doctor, no! You have a class-"

"And they can wait."

She sighed in exasperation. "Where are we going?"

"The infirmary."

"You don't have to take care of me-"

"Oswin," he said blankly, turning around to face her. "I'm called The Doctor; at least give me some decency to the name."

* * *

"So, what did you figure out that got you into this?" he asked in a slightly amusing tone of voice, carefully cleaning her arm with a paper towel. Oswin hissed at the burning pain.

"Osgood...she's...she's been hacking into these...major security institutions, and...it sort of led up to hacking into UNIT." she shook her head. "This Editor...he's been..._hurting _her... and I can tell it in her voice and I hate it." she scowled. Her legs swung from the exam table that she sat on, The Doctor taking care of her minor injury.

"Ah," he said, as if he saw it coming. "Well, we can't have that." he said calmly, neatly folding the paper towel in his hands and throwing it into the waste basket. "I'll talk to the authorities of TARDIS, see what we can do about it."

"Doctor..." she said quietly as he carefully removed the paper from an over sized bandage "You don't think they could've...hacked into _our _records, do you?" she asked weakly.

"Nah," he replied, grinning at her. "I do things the old-fashioned way."

"What's your interpretation for 'the old-fashioned' way?" she asked out of curiosity.

He carefully placed the bandage on her upper arm. "Oh, you know. I have all of our records on paper instead of online."

Oswin smirked. "Don't you think that's a little dangerous, just under lock and key?"

"Well, if Osgood hasn't broken into them yet, then it's a pretty beneficial plan then, don't you think?" he smiled. And for once, she smiled back. "Oswin," he started.

"Please..." Oswin interrupted; after all this time, she still wasn't used to her own code name. "...call me Clara when there's no one around, will you?" she asked him quietly. He started at her for a few moments, then nodding his head in reply.

"Clara...you know what you said about me not having to take care of you?" he asked. Clara stayed still, unable to answer. She didn't really expect him to remember that. "Whenever I work, and wherever I go, me being your partner means that I keep you safe, you got that?" he asked her in a soft voice. Clara looked at him for a minute, trying to look past his eyes, which she realized for the first time, held a shade of green. She nodded. And even though he was a complete idiot, Clara had the mind to trust him.

Not like she would ever tell him that.


	6. Chapter 6

**_Chapter Six_**

The Editor didn't come to school the next day.

Oswin almost laughed about it, mainly because The Doctor was all up and ready to scold him, a rehearsed reprimanding speech with witty punch lines and all. He was rather disappointed that it didn't go to a decent use. It didn't take the two to become aware of the fact that The Editor had already gotten what he wanted, he specifically wanted those files from UNIT, that's why he chose Osgood to do all the heavy work, not to give himself any sort of advantage, to put her through the misery of betraying her mother's institute. Criminals loved watching other people's suffering. And along with that, he got a few complimentary files from Torchwood and Sara Jane Smith's office as well, just for the fun of having something to threaten them with when necessary.

"Doctor, I'm sorry, I do believe you," Kate said through the phone, Oswin and The Doctor hovering over the receiver attentively. "But no files seem to be missing or out of place, and viewing history has been nonexistent in the archive at the time and date you claim them to have taken place." she clarified. Oswin bit nervously on the cherry lollipop in her mouth, wishing that it would shatter into pieces already. (Counselor perks.) The Editor didn't steal any files, he copied them, or maybe even just looked at them, but he had what he needed to know regardless. She should've known already that The Editor would've deleted his internet history from UNIT, because criminals, out of all things, weren't stupid. "But thank you for informing us of this matter, we'll make sure to enforce the security as soon as possible to only detect signals from the UNIT headquarters." she said, and then hung up. Oswin sighed, boosting herself up atop of The Doctor's desk while he hopelessly played with the spiral phone cord.

"Those files could be anything, you know." Oswin offered, her voice slightly mumbled due to the lollipop in her mouth. "We just need a clue, just...something...something to start with." she shook her head. "Criminals like playing games, remember that."

"Yeah but what if they don't? What if The Editor didn't want to play any stupid games? He has information from their files, maybe that's all he wanted."

"They never_ just_ want what they steal."

"Well what else could be want?" he asked her sternly.

"Doctor, take into consideration this." Oswin said, taking the lollipop out of her mouth so she could speak clearly. "People _want us dead too._" she looked at him, her eyes showing the least bit of worry. "We work for TARDIS for God's sake, any criminal would want to see our blood pour out by a gunshot wound, shot _by them_." she said quietly, in barely a whisper. "Convicts these days don't just...steal what they want and run, they want to be chased after." she reprimanded, and though it sounded unwholesome, it was the truth. "They want the victory of proving to other people that they can defeat the ones against them, and don't we want that too?" she asked, and she could admit it, she wanted that Editor dead, and whoever he worked for too. The Doctor, however, stayed silent, yet still listening to what she said, his eyes fixed onto the blackboard behind her.

She looked down at her shoes, a letter on his desk catching her eye at a sudden. "Hey," she said quietly, her voice a mere mumble as she picked up the envelope and inspected it carefully. "When did you get this?" she asked.

"It was on my desk after lunch," he said, strolling over to his blackboard and picking up a piece of chalk, writing a few mathematical equations to solve in order to pass the time and to calm the stress, for in his sane mind, he thought math was a beauty.

"Mind if I open it?"

The Doctor waved his hand as if he couldn't care less, calculating the volumes of cylinders and such, it was like a three-year old drawing daisies and dandelions. _Simple._

Oswin raised an eyebrow, not only at him but at the letter, for it had no return address, just _The Doctor _written in a flawless font that Oswin swore was printed out by a typewriter, but no, it was real, raw, pen ink. She carefully tore the envelope open, sliding out a piece of paper, and immediately wanting to scream at what she saw. It was a tiny piece of card stock, cut out to pristine conditions and perfect proportions, drops of dried blood stained onto the surface in a way that looked as if the paper had been painted on, the words _come find me _written in that same, unimpaired handwriting printed at the top. She hastily but delicately placed the piece of paper on the desk before her, hopping off of his desk and covering her face with her tiny hands, mumbling curse words to herself.

The Doctor turned around to see why she seemed to be hyperventilating, his eyes fixing onto the piece of paper that Oswin held in her hands only a mere few seconds ago. The blood shown its pride, the handwriting even more disturbing. _Come find me.  
_He brushed the chalk dust off on his pants, walking over to the desk and looking at it closely, his eyes immediately attentive. "Oh..." he smiled, laughing. "What do you have to say to that Miss Clara?" he said, his tone of voice quiet and filled with sudden interest.

She bit her lip, shaking her head and looking at him warily. "I told you so."

* * *

"The blood belongs to Professor Mahler, died just this week actually. Committed suicide." Alexei explained to them in his office downtown. He worked for the Manhattan Police, having to get stuck with the position of talking to people and making phone calls.

"No, it wasn't a suicide, somebody _send us his blood._" The Doctor clarified.

"I'm sorry Doctor, but that's what investigators found out, gun in left hand. Claimed he killed himself."

"Oh, yeah, alright, so he killed himself, and while dead sent us a lovely painting of his blood, Alexei _we got this evidence today._" The Doctor sounding exasperated, Oswin sitting silently on the seat next to him.

"I don't know what to tell you other than the information that investigators have found." the officer shook his head. The Doctor sighed.

"What did Mahler teach? He was a professor, correct?"

Alexei nodded his head. "He taught Arts History at Prescott."

"...can we take a look inside his classroom?" Oswin blurted out suddenly. "I just...I want to look for anything suspicious."

Alexei nodded his head. "Of course."

* * *

"This...looks like an ordinary classroom, nothing new." Oswin raised her eyebrows as The Doctor unlocked the door. It was simple, dust-collecting bookshelves with numerous art history textbooks, his things still sitting on his desk, yet to be collected. She spotted a week old newspaper sitting on his desk, and she read the title. _Kate Lethbridge-Stewart Releasing New Works of Art For Manhattan Exhibit. _A bit of a long title she thought, but it was self-explanatory. Disregarding the paper, she looked around the classroom attentively, wondering if there would be anything of use to the mystery they were trying to solve.

"Hey, look at this." she motioned towards a series of tri-fold poster projects displayed in the far corner of the room. She read the title of the first one. "_Found Works of Art__: Bad Wolf._" she read in a quiet voice, looking at the printed pictures displayed. In the middle was the main picture of the painting, found on the Internet. Oswin looked at it carefully. In the picture stood a beautiful girl, with eyes as gold as her hair, and behind her, two words that looked as if they had been slaughtered on. _Bad Wolf. _Oswin looked at the next one. _Found Works of Art: The Girl Who Waited. _It's painting portrayed a little redhead asleep in a garden atop of a suitcase. Oswin smiled, the next tri-fold posted catching her attention. _Found Works of Art: Come Find Me. _The title was circled in red marker, the picture displaying numerous versions of the same girl in different time periods. It was beautiful. ..._Come Find Me. _Clara stood stiff. The same words written on blood. She glanced down at the bottom. _Fun Fact: "Come Find Me" will be making it's first public debut at Manhattan's Grand Hall Exhibit October Eleventh. _

Clara froze.

_That's today. _

"Doctor..." she breathed, motioning him to come over. "Come Find Me isn't...a message...it's a painting. A painting that I think somebody's out to steal." she stared at the title, the words_ Come Find Me _circled in bright red marker. "Professor Mahler wasn't killed because they wanted him dead, he was killed so his killer could lead us here." The Doctor looked over her shoulder at the project, Oswin hastily running over to the desk and grabbing the newspaper, reading the fine print. "Today, curator Kate L. Stewart holds the honors of debuting three long-lost paintings: _A Church on a Hill, Washed in Bronze, and the most popular, standing at a price of nearly 150 million, Come Find Me, the artist an anonymous monk with origins from Cumbria in the year 1207._" She read slowly and carefully, stopping to catch her breath. "That's what those files were about." she bit her lip. She looked at The Doctor. "So...? What do you think they're going to do?"

"What do criminals usually do?"

"...I don't know. Come early?"

"Nope. Keep thinking."

"Just...steal it and cause a scene?"

"Too difficult to get away with. What's a way that's completely not suspicious and yet brilliant at the same time?"

"I don't know! Um...make a copy of the painting and replace the real one?"

"Correctamundo!" The Doctor exclaimed, adopting a look of distaste. "A word that I have _never _used before, and hopefully never will again." he muttered, narrating to himself, then beaming at his confused companion. "Clara, you're brilliant." he smiled, kissing her forehead, to which she replied to by slapping him in the face. The Doctor stood agape for a moment, taking it all in. "_Ow!_" he yelled, disregarding his shocked companion and running out of the classroom rather awkwardly. Nevertheless, she continued to follow him.

While following him down the hallway, Clara had this unusual feeling of somebody watching her, which did make her feel uneasy. Clara was always one to disregard those kinds of things, but she couldn't help but feel somebody's eyes on her neck. She turned around, only to see a lady at the copier, wearing a suit and sporting a short haircut. She smiled politely at her, almost _too _politely, at which Clara shuddered and only turned around to catch up with The Doctor. "So-? she asked once she was practically running to him in the parking lot. "Where are we going now?"

The Doctor only got into his car, Clara right beside him, still searching him for answers. He put the key into ignition. "Where are we going now, Clara Oswald?" he announced, smiling. "We're going to do a bit of shopping."


End file.
